


Three Words

by crumplehornedsnorkack



Series: Fic a day in May [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post 4x12, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crumplehornedsnorkack/pseuds/crumplehornedsnorkack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Mickey says "I love you"</p>
<p>In response to "Maybe. I don't know." In 4x12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Words

Ian had been in bed for two days.

 

Mickey hadn’t said the words in years. Since before his mom died. Not to Mandy, certainly not to his shithead of a father. 

He didn’t remember who he said them to last. Maybe his mom, maybe Mandy, hell, maybe even fucking Terry. Mickey also didn’t remember when he decided “I love you” was nothing but empty lies. 

It was probably around the hundredth time Terry had come home drunk, and mom had locked him and Mandy in their rooms. The next morning mom always had new bruises, a busted lip, trouble walking. It was always something. Terry would be extra nice. Put his arm around her shoulder, pat her hair, and tell her that he loved her. Some how that made it all okay. Mom always stayed, never complained. 

“I love you,” meant nothing, they were words used to placate the unwilling. At least that’s what Mickey firmly believed. 

 

Ian had been in bed for three days. 

 

Mickey had never even considered that he might love someone until he met Ian fucking Gallagher. With his baby face and his huge dick. With his weirdly sweet words and badass ROTC training. Ian Gallagher with the family that flung around words like love carelessly. Like they meant them, even when no one was hurt. They said it when they left the house, and when one of them was sad, or happy, or bored. Like it was no big deal, like it was true. 

And it was true. That’s what confused Mickey the most. Ian and his family never said the words to manipulate each other; they just all genuinely seemed to love each other. 

Mickey wasn’t sure that he had ever loved anyone. Absolutely not Terry. He didn’t really give a shit about his brothers, and his mom was too weak and empty for him to ever really love her, she was only ever a shell of a woman. 

Mickey thought Mandy was the closest he has ever come to loving another person. He would kill for her, do what ever it took to keep her safe, but Mickey didn’t know if that is what love was. 

 

Ian had been in bed for four days. 

 

What Mickey felt for Ian couldn’t be described. Sure he would have killed for Ian, but in the South Side that didn’t actually mean all that much. All Mickey knew is that when Ian wasn’t around, it’s like there was this acid inside him, burning its way to the surface. He felt like he didn’t know what to do with his hands if they weren’t touching Ian. 

And when Ian was around, it was like he could do anything, conquer anyone. He felt like everything would be okay, even though he knew it wouldn’t. 

Maybe what Mickey felt for Ian was love. Maybe it wasn’t. Mickey honestly didn’t know. What he did know, what that he was never leaving Ian. 

Ian was it for him. For life. 

Maybe Mickey didn’t love him now, but he would, in the future. Mickey knew that for sure. No matter how low Ian got. No matter how bad his illness got, Mickey would always be there. There wasn’t another option. 

The only problem was, Mickey didn’t know if Ian knew that. Ian knew he cared. He had to, Mickey had come out to a bar full of homophobes for Ian. So Ian definitely knew he meant something to Mickey, but Mickey was afraid that wasn’t enough. 

 

Ian had been in bed for five days. 

 

Mickey didn’t know what to do. Fiona had said to lock Ian up, and Mickey didn’t know how to handle that. Ian was his, and he would protect Ian in every fucking way he could. 

The thought of Ian in some loony bin was unacceptable. Mickey had been to juvie, he knew what it felt like to be nothing but a trapped animal. He couldn’t reduce Ian to that. He couldn’t loose Ian, not when he’d just gotten him back. 

 

Ian had been in bed for six days.

 

Mandy dropped a stack of papers in front of Mickey and walked away. Internet print outs, brochures from the hospital, and what looked like a fucking letter addressed to Mickey from some shrink, telling him all about how best to help Ian.

Mickey thought if he could ever say the words, Mandy would be the second person to hear them. 

 

Ian had been in bed a week when Mickey finally packed a bag. 

 

He manhandled Ian into sweats and a hoodie. He got him into the passenger seat of a stolen car and drove him to the hospital. All it took was a week of Ian suffering for Mickey to realize the only thing more important than making sure Ian didn’t leave, was making sure he was healthy enough to have the choice to stay. 

Mickey pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car. He got out, unbuckled Ian and tried to pull him from the car. Ian wouldn’t budge. 

“Get up lazy ass, we got to get you all fixed up.” Mickey slid his arm around Ian and moved his feet out of the car.

“I don’t think I can do it Mickey.”

“Of course you can, fuck-head. You have to.”

“Why?” Ian sounded so broken. So lifeless and empty, and Mickey’s heart broken because his mom had sounded just like that. Like the whole world was crumbling and she just didn’t have the energy to give a shit. 

“Why Mickey? What’s the point?”

“The point is that I fucking love you, you moron. So get your ass up before I make you.” Mickey hadn’t been sure that it was true, but now he was. The words had tasted true. They had felt amazing. 

“I love you, Ian Gallagher, and you are going to get healthy whether you fucking like it or not. Now, are you coming, or do I have to drag your freckled ass in there by force?”

Mickey hadn’t expected the words to fix Ian, and they didn’t. Ian didn’t smile, or say it back, and Mickey didn’t need him to. Not right then, not when he knew every breath Ian took must feel like swallowing lead. Mickey pulled Ian from the car and led him into the hospital. Mickey knew some day Ian would say it back, and for right then, that was enough.


End file.
